man’s control.
The battered Citroën came to a halt in the narrow cobbled street. The lacklustre bonnet gleamed with a dull shine in the light of the overhanging streetlamp. Auguste turned to the girl seated beside him.
‘Bernadette, you can never return there.’
‘But I have no other way of earning money.’
‘It doesn’t matter. The man is evil. If you go back there he will cause you trouble. He is an SD officer. Secret police. Never go there again. I will speak to Jules, the baker and see if he can find you some night work in the bakery when it opens again. You can trust Jules, he is old enough to be my father let alone yours.’
She smiled.
‘Will it be soon?’
‘Yes, my little friend,’ Auguste said. ‘I will ask him tomorrow. Do as I say. I am the police after all.’
She opened the door and turned to Auguste. Her eyes shone and they reminded him of Odette in those days when their love was new.
‘You are a good man, Inspector.’
Stung by the words, he said, ‘I wish it were true. If I were a good man, I would not do the work I do. God will judge. I have much to make amends for, my child.’
She smiled.
‘Te absolvo,’ she said, grinning as she slammed the door shut. He watched her skip across the road, until she reached and opened the painted door to her mother’s home.
Auguste drove home. He drove fast, the puddles scattering in shiny spray as his tyres hit them. For the first time in his life, he watched the rear view mirror at every turn, to check for following cars.
Chapter 4
1
Auguste expressed his impatience by tapping his foot on the linoleum. His office felt cold and he had promised Odette he would be home early. He levelled his gaze at the portly Gendarme Colonel in front of him.
‘Colonel Arnaud, I have no choice in the matter,’ he said.
Arnaud, an old man for his job, shrugged. He wore a grey moustache and his baldness seemed exposed as he fiddled with his cap. He shifted in his seat, as if he was sitting on something irregular. He was a relic. He was one of those left over from the old war, a German war and one still burning within him, as far as Auguste could see. Relics, he thought, should be locked up in museums, not administrating the Maréchaussée.
Colonel Arnaud said, ‘Inspector. This is not a military matter, as I see it. This is political and so does not fall under my jurisdiction. If it had been a criminal matter in the countryside, of course we would be involved. We are always first in line when it comes to our duty, but rounding up Jewish people because of a change in policy, well...’
‘This is a matter in which I need your help. I can send word to Lyon and you could be made to cooperate.’
The two men were silent for a full minute as they looked at each other, then the Colonel said, ‘Very well. Two men to a truck. How many trucks will you have? I cannot supply any. It is hard enough to get fuel nowadays. I cannot waste the little we have on this kind of nonsense.’
‘Brunner has instructed your men may not be armed.’
‘What?’ Arnaud said.
He leaned forward in his chair. It creaked. Auguste could smell the garlic on Arnaud’s breath and he wrinkled his nose.
‘Brunner will commandeer trucks and I have to supply the names and locations,’ Auguste said.
‘Tell me Inspector, what do you really think is going on here.’
‘Well, one hears rumours...’
‘Rumours?’ Arnaud said.
‘Yes, rumours. What have you heard?’
‘I heard the internees will be deported to camps in Poland and Germany and they are places where they may not come out.’
‘You mean death-camps?’
‘I suppose you could say that,’ Arnaud said.
‘I have heard similar stories. I don’t know what to make of it. I have lived here all my life. I know almost everyone in the town and the surrounding district. I know many Jewish people too.’
‘Why don’t you just say no? Let the invaders do their own dirty work. That was what I meant before, until you
The battered Citroën came to a halt in the narrow cobbled street. The lacklustre bonnet gleamed with a dull shine in the light of the overhanging streetlamp. Auguste turned to the girl seated beside him.
‘Bernadette, you can never return there.’
‘But I have no other way of earning money.’
‘It doesn’t matter. The man is evil. If you go back there he will cause you trouble. He is an SD officer. Secret police. Never go there again. I will speak to Jules, the baker and see if he can find you some night work in the bakery when it opens again. You can trust Jules, he is old enough to be my father let alone yours.’
She smiled.
‘Will it be soon?’
‘Yes, my little friend,’ Auguste said. ‘I will ask him tomorrow. Do as I say. I am the police after all.’
She opened the door and turned to Auguste. Her eyes shone and they reminded him of Odette in those days when their love was new.
‘You are a good man, Inspector.’
Stung by the words, he said, ‘I wish it were true. If I were a good man, I would not do the work I do. God will judge. I have much to make amends for, my child.’
She smiled.
‘Te absolvo,’ she said, grinning as she slammed the door shut. He watched her skip across the road, until she reached and opened the painted door to her mother’s home.
Auguste drove home. He drove fast, the puddles scattering in shiny spray as his tyres hit them. For the first time in his life, he watched the rear view mirror at every turn, to check for following cars.
Chapter 4
1
Auguste expressed his impatience by tapping his foot on the linoleum. His office felt cold and he had promised Odette he would be home early. He levelled his gaze at the portly Gendarme Colonel in front of him.
‘Colonel Arnaud, I have no choice in the matter,’ he said.
Arnaud, an old man for his job, shrugged. He wore a grey moustache and his baldness seemed exposed as he fiddled with his cap. He shifted in his seat, as if he was sitting on something irregular. He was a relic. He was one of those left over from the old war, a German war and one still burning within him, as far as Auguste could see. Relics, he thought, should be locked up in museums, not administrating the Maréchaussée.
Colonel Arnaud said, ‘Inspector. This is not a military matter, as I see it. This is political and so does not fall under my jurisdiction. If it had been a criminal matter in the countryside, of course we would be involved. We are always first in line when it comes to our duty, but rounding up Jewish people because of a change in policy, well...’
‘This is a matter in which I need your help. I can send word to Lyon and you could be made to cooperate.’
The two men were silent for a full minute as they looked at each other, then the Colonel said, ‘Very well. Two men to a truck. How many trucks will you have? I cannot supply any. It is hard enough to get fuel nowadays. I cannot waste the little we have on this kind of nonsense.’
‘Brunner has instructed your men may not be armed.’
‘What?’ Arnaud said.
He leaned forward in his chair. It creaked. Auguste could smell the garlic on Arnaud’s breath and he wrinkled his nose.
‘Brunner will commandeer trucks and I have to supply the names and locations,’ Auguste said.
‘Tell me Inspector, what do you really think is going on here.’
‘Well, one hears rumours...’
‘Rumours?’ Arnaud said.
‘Yes, rumours. What have you heard?’
‘I heard the internees will be deported to camps in Poland and Germany and they are places where they may not come out.’
‘You mean death-camps?’
‘I suppose you could say that,’ Arnaud said.
‘I have heard similar stories. I don’t know what to make of it. I have lived here all my life. I know almost everyone in the town and the surrounding district. I know many Jewish people too.’
‘Why don’t you just say no? Let the invaders do their own dirty work. That was what I meant before, until you
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